


my badass omega lover

by randomfills (spnfanatic)



Series: my badass omega hunter [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Winchester Hates Witches, Established Relationship, Hunting, M/M, Omega Dean, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Hates Witches, Witches, extension of an spn prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27567502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnfanatic/pseuds/randomfills
Summary: Companion piece to ‘my sweet, docile alpha’ that was written for a prompt that wanted alpha Sam/omega Dean. Dean’s a badass hunter, even if he was born an omega, and Sam knew it. All the monsters, well, they tended to underestimate Dean right up ‘til the minute their heads got cut off.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: my badass omega hunter [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015029
Comments: 5
Kudos: 130





	my badass omega lover

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm back! I will probably be extending some prompts that still interest me.

“Yesss! Did you fucking see that, Sammy?” Dean’s loud, enthusiastic shout rang clearly into the room Sam was currently standing in. He wiped a line of sweat on his face before crouching down next to the body of yet another dead (for good) vampire. The handsome face of a man stared lifelessly up at him from the other side of its body. Sam made sure to decapitate the vampire so it didn’t have a chance to come back. He looked up to see his brother’s face peek in from the doorway. Dean was grinning, vibrant green eyes looking at Sam with a giddiness that came from just finishing a successful hunt. There was a trail of blood that slid from his hairline down to his chin that had Sam raising an eyebrow. Dean waved off his concern, lifting a long, slender finger to dab gently at his cheek. “I’m fine, dude. This ain’t even mine. See?” He flicked off some of the blood with his fingers before lifting his machete up to examine it. There was a lot of blood on that too but Dean didn’t seem too concerned. 

Sam stood up and let out a small sigh of relief. Sometimes he forgot that Dean was twenty four and more than capable of taking care of himself. Hell. He’d taken care of Sam for more than half his life, ‘til Sam presented as an alpha and he decided it had been high time to switch their roles. ‘Course Dean didn’t really like that, always had it in his head that since he was the older brother, he’d always be Sam’s protector no matter what their designation said, no matter what society dictated. It took a little while because Dean was a stubborn son of a bitch when he wanted to be, but Sam was patient enough to wait Dean out. They decided to compromise in the end. Sam may dictate more of their sex life, in the privacy of closed doors, but Dean was an equal outside of it. 

Sometimes Sam’s worry showed though. It’d show in the tenseness of his shoulders, or a growl would slip through pursed lips. Dean would just roll his eyes, his face pinched in exasperation. “Sammy, I think your alpha’s showing,” he would whisper, and nudge Sam a little too hard to not have been on purpose.

“Hey, earth to Sammy,” Dean’s voice cut through Sam’s train of thought. Dean was looking back at him with concern on his face. “What’s up, man?”

Sam shook his head slightly, turning to look around the room. There were a couple decapitated bodies near the corner of the room and another one just at his feet. He smiled tiredly at his brother and said, “Nothing. Sorry. Just thinking we could both use a shower.”

Dean stared at him for another moment, before looking up and down at himself. His face broke into a slow grin. “Shit. You’re right. Let’s go then.” They started to head out of the house. “I call dibs on the first shower, bitch.”

“Dude, you got first shower last time and you barely left me with any hot water.”

“Yeah, ‘cos I called it first last time. Not my fault you don’t call it fast enough.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

“What’s that?”

Sam grinned. “Shower sex.”

“Holy shit. That sounds awesome actually,” Dean said, peeling out of the driveway.

The next case found them in a small town in Indiana. Bobby actually called them to help a friend.

“Well, he’s not exactly a friend per say. Just another hunter I’ve helped from time to time,” Bobby grumbled over the phone. “His name’s Garth. Met him a couple months back when he was struggling against a werewolf. He’s a little bit eccentric and not much of a hunter but he’s got a good heart. Anyways he called in a panic. Something about possible witches but he can’t find any hex bags.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks from inside the Impala. Dean gripped the wheel as Sam stared down at the phone. Witches but no hex bags? That was a new one.

“Tell him we’re on our way, Bobby,” Dean said, pulling out of the motel parking lot.

“Thanks, guys. I’ll let him know,” Bobby said, then hung up.

Turned out that Bobby was right on the money when he said that Garth might be a little weird (the guy kept a sock puppet named Mr. Fizzles for fuck’s sake) and not much hunter material (he was down right a piss poor hunter, Sam had to wonder how the guy even stumbled upon the supernatural) but he did have a heart of gold. He was a beta male, was four years older than Sam surprisingly because he sure didn’t look it. He had been investigating the town for a week now after realizing some things had been off with the locals.

“I don’t know, man. It’s just the way some people here have been acting, you know? Kind of shady and secretive. Like they’re all hiding something,” Garth told them.

“And you think there’s witchcraft involved somehow?” Dean asked, crossing his arms.

Garth stared at him with wide eyes for a moment longer than was necessary. Dean raised an eyebrow, “What?”

Garth scratched the top of his head, frowning. He glanced over to Sam, almost like he wasn’t sure who he was supposed to talk to. When Sam didn’t say anything, he coughed into his fist and said, “Look. I know that there are supposed to be hex bags when there are witches involved but there are four dead bodies and my gut is telling me there’s a witch involved. Somehow.” He looked back and forth between the brothers, eyes pleading with them to take him seriously.

“Uh, look, Garth, right?” Dean said, sitting down on the motel bed next to him. Garth turned to look at him, nodding slowly. He patted the guy on his shoulder somewhat awkwardly. It was kind of funny seeing Dean in this position, trying to comfort the victim or in this case another hunter, because despite their designations, this was normally Sam’s role and Dean would be the one navigating through the hunt. It let Dean feel more in control, and Sam was fine with the alpha playing the ‘soft, more understanding’ role. Sam had to bite down on the bottom of his lips to keep from smiling. Dean looked like a fish out of water, flailing around on a strange new land. Despite the awkwardness, there was something soft in his eyes, a strange kinship forming between Dean and Garth that had Sam curious. What surprised Sam even more was what Dean said next. 

“If you think there’s a witch involved, we believe you, man. Just take us through what you know so far.”

“Really?” Garth asked with more than just a little hope in his voice.

“Really, uh, buddy,” Dean said.

Garth took them through the rundown of what he knew which wasn’t a lot. Sam wasn’t all that surprised by it, though Dean was a little disappointed.

“You know Garth could be wrong, Dean,” Sam said after Garth left. “Bobby did say he wasn’t really a good hunter.”

“Yeah, I know what Bobby said, but I can’t seem to shake this feeling. Like Garth might be right,” Dean said, laying on the bed. He was staring up at the ceiling.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh. “How can Garth be right? He hasn’t found any hex bags, Dean. He said so. He’s just running on suspicions.”

“There are four people dead. In the past month. In a little town in Indiana that had no prior history of anything happening. Isn’t that a little weird?”

“A little,” Sam admitted. “But it could just be a normal run of the mill killer. Nothing supernatural could be happening. You’ve read the reports. They found stab wounds on the bodies.”

“Yeah but they haven’t found a weapon yet, or fingerprints. It’s like the wounds just magically appeared there,” Dean pointed out. “Garth might not have found any hex bags yet, but that still doesn’t rule out witches.” 

Sam frowned, conceding that Dean might have a point. He walked over to the bed Dean was laying on and sat down. His added weight caused the mattress to shift. Dean finally decided to look over at him. Fuck. Dean looked beautiful laid out like this. Sam kind of wanted to have this conversation later and just fuck Dean senseless right now. As if reading his thoughts, Dean’s lips curled up in a light smirk and fluttered his lashes. “So wanna stow this conversation for now and fuck me already? Come on, big boy.” Sam narrowed his eyes, a soft growl escaping his throat before launching himself forward.

-

It turned out Garth was right.

They did some digging and while at first all of the victims didn’t seem to have anything in common, Sam’s research eventually led them to the same office building in the middle of town. Keith Wilder was a man with trim dark hair and average height. He was a lawyer. Somehow all four victims had been caught visiting the building at some point during the past six months, whether as a client or just happened to be in the vicinity for whatever reason...Sam was sure this guy, Wilder, was their man.

“Look, feds, I don’t know what to tell you. Those were all tragic deaths but if you think I killed any of them, well, I don’t think you’re doing your jobs properly,” the man said, calm as can be behind his large desk. He glanced down at his watch for the third time in the past fifteen minutes.

Dean cleared his throat, “We’re not accusing you of having anything to do with those deaths, Mr. Wilder.”

“Then what exactly are you here for?” Wilder asked, looking straight at Sam.

Sam glanced over to Dean. His brother was fidgeting in his seat, his hands balled up into fists. It always annoyed them both when people would automatically defer to Sam because he was the alpha and Dean was the omega. Huge disrespect. He said nothing, waiting for Dean to answer instead.

When it seemed clear to everyone in the room that Sam wasn’t going to say anything, Wilder slowly turned back to Dean, a fake, polite smile on his face. “Why are you here, agents?” he asked again, this time to Dean.

Dean grinned lazily. “We’re just curious if you’ve seen anything suspicious lately.”

Wilder blinked, before raising an eyebrow. “Define suspicious.” Then he glanced down, yet again, at his watch.

Dean tried not to look visibly annoyed at the action. “Oh you know, anyone acting out of the ordinary. Say if Louis normally shows up on time, he’s suddenly late. Or if Margot is normally cheerful, she’s suddenly acting...unpleasant.” He leaned forward in his chair at Wilder’s hesitance. “Or someone who’s normally pretty transparent is suddenly a lot more secretive. Something like that.”

“What are you trying to insinuate, agent?” Wilder asked stiffly. He looked down at his watch, tried to do it more discreetly but Sam had been watching his movements the entire time and it hadn’t been lost on him.

Finally, Sam interjected, “Are you in a hurry, Mr. Wilder? We’re not keeping you late from the wife, are we?”

Wilder blinked, turning back to Sam. He seemed to visibly relax which was a little odd. “Uh, yeah,” he admitted after a moment. “I’m supposed to be meeting Melanie for lunch in thirty minutes.” He cleared his throat and actually looked apologetic. “I’ve been pushing her off for a while now because I’ve been busy lately.”

The brothers exchanged uneasy looks with each other. Dean stood up and said, “Right. Sorry to keep you then.” He took out a card from his pocket and handed it over to Wilder. “If you can think of anything...anything at all, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Right. Thank you,” Wilder said.

Sam stood as well and followed his brother out of the office. He blew out a breath. “So, the wife then?”

Dean nodded. “Think about it, Sammy. These guys were Wilder’s clients at one point. He knew them. Wife gets jealous of him spending all his time in the office because it’s screwing over their time together, and wham! Next thing they know, dead bodies all over.”

“It makes sense I guess, but you really think she’s a witch?” Sam asked, still skeptical. “Without her husband knowing anything?”

Dean paused a second. “Oh he knows something. Did you see the way he stiffened when I asked him about seeing anything suspicious?”

Sam did see. He sighed as they got out of the building and headed to the Impala. “You’re right. He’s probably hiding something.”

“You’re damn right I’m right,” Dean said as he climbed into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. Sam climbed in on the other side. Dean’s fingers moved to turn the music on. AC/DC blared inside the car and Dean started to hum under his breath as they peeled out of the parking lot.

The first time the Winchesters met Melanie Wilder would be the last time.

Melanie was short and slender with blond hair and green eyes. She was also an alpha and had one hell of an attitude. When Sam and Dean stormed down the Wilder’s front door, they expected to see an ugly witch with an uglier attitude, but Melanie, while there was fire and passion in her eyes, was pretty far from ugly. She was young, probably in her mid twenties, while Keith was in his upper thirties.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she had asked, looking between the brothers, surprise on her face but Sam knew it was a lie. She was pretending to be surprised and scared but underneath the farce was an underlying current of curiosity and excitement. He knew the feeling all too well, felt the excitement thrumming through his body every time he was on a hunt. 

Dean took a step forward, not bothering to hide the machete he had packing behind him. He grinned at her, “Hunting a witch.” He looked pointedly past her to the table where a book was lying open and a small bowl was sat next to it. Lying in the open for anyone walking past the room to see were a couple small hex bags.

Following his gaze quickly, Melanie’s lips curled up into a feral grin. “Hunters,” she hissed.

They all moved into action quickly after the realization. Melanie went to grab the hex bags, closer to the table than either hunter. She froze just inches from touching the bags however, Dean right up on her, pressing the machete against her neck, gripping her arm bruisingly tight. “You’re done for, witch,” he said into her ear, looking like a crazy bloodthirsty killer. “We figured out your little scheme. You killed those four poor sons of bitches for asking your husband for help because it made him have to stay in the office a little longer, in turn cutting your love life in half. Boo fucking hoo, having to share your husband with his clients. He’s off making a living and trying to help do some good in the world and here you are, sitting around killing everyone that ever dares try to get close to him because your shallow little heart can’t take it.”

For a long moment, no one moved. Then Melanie started to chuckle. Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to stand. “What’s so damn funny?” Dean asked, looking even more pissed off.

“You. You think you have it all figured out, don’t ya?”

“Don’t I though?” Dean asked, baring his teeth.

Melanie shook her head. “No. Not even close, babe.” She shook with laughter as Dean drove the machete harder into her neck. Sam watched as blood started to trickle from the shallow wound. Something wasn’t right about this.

“Dean,” he started to warn but the witch cut him off.

“You really think you’re such a big, bad hunter, don’t you?” she asked leaning back into Dean. Her gaze shifted from Dean to Sam. “You took your best shot on me. Now it’s my turn.” She grabbed hold of Dean’s arm with surprising force and flung him across the room.

Shit. “Dean!” Sam shouted, sprinting over to his groaning brother.

“You pretend you’re modern day Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, interjecting yourselves into investigations, hoping there’s some supernatural force behind it all so you can feel better about yourselves when you inevitably interrupt some poor fool’s life with all the deaths and murderous tendencies you cause.” She paused dramatically. “How am I doing so far, boys? Right on the money?” Sam didn’t reply because what she was insinuating was nonsense and they both knew it. However, he could feel Dean stiffen under his touch and he found himself hoping Dean wouldn’t do anything rash, like getting up and rushing her when he was weaponless and the witch had hex bags within her grasp. “That’s right, slick,” the witch said, her words aimed at Dean. “We all know what’s really going on here. You’re just a poor little omega with a crappy childhood, daddy issues probably, trying to overcompensate. And your alpha partner is obviously indulging because he loves you, maybe a little too much.” It was Sam’s turn to stiffen at the words. It hit a little too close to home. How the fuck did the witch guess so much of their lives?

The look on Sam’s face must have said it all because Melanie grinned and said, “Don’t look so surprised, boys. Like we’d become witches without researching all about the infamous monster hunters, Sam and Dean Winchester. You can’t make a deal with demons without those ugly sacks of shits going on and on and about the Winchesters.”

Of fucking course. It wasn’t that she was a mind reader or anything. She knew about the Winchesters because of demons. He almost relaxed now knowing they were dealing with a run of the mill witch. But then the other words sank in. She said the word witches, as in plural. He froze. That couldn’t mean-

The resounding click of a gun had both brothers turning to their right. There just barely standing inside the house, the front door shut and locked behind him, was Keith Wilder. He looked between the three of them, not a trace of surprise or fear on his face, his gun aimed at Sam’s chest.

Oh fuck. They were both witches.

There was a tense moment where no one moved. Dean was still lying on the floor next to his brother, staring up at the new intruder like he was daring Keith to shoot him. Keith made no move to pull the trigger though. Finally he sighed and lowered the gun. He glanced over to his wife who looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He pulled out his wallet and tossed it over to her. “Guess you win then,” he grumbled.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows, feeling more than a little lost at the bizarre exchange. Dean couldn’t help but open his damn mouth, more pissed off and annoyed and just plain confused, “What the fuck? Did you make a bet on us or something?”

Melanie rolled her eyes as she took out a wad of cash before dumping the empty wallet on the table. “And if we did?” She turned to her husband with a triumphant smile. “Told you they were hunters. How the hell did you not notice having Sam and Dean Winchester interrogate you in your office?”

Keith looked back at the brothers with a shrug. “They didn’t look like hunters,” he grumbled. “Hunters are normally alphas. Never even heard of an omega being one.”

“You really don’t need to talk about us like we’re not in the room,” Dean said, clearing his throat. “We’re right here, you sellout assholes.”

Keith chuckled before turning to his wife. “Sellouts? What did you tell them?”

Melanie shrugged. “Oh just the truth. That we may have conversed with demons in exchange for power.”

“Why would we be sellouts for talking with demons?” Keith asked conversationally. “It’s not like we’re doing anything nefarious for them. Yeah the killing people looks pretty bad but trust me, that wasn’t because a demon in my head told me to, they all fucking deserved it.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. The more they heard, the crazier these people became. Not to mention, they didn’t seem to get the clue that they’d sold their freaking souls for a little bit of power. Fuck did Sam hate witches. Selfish, greedy assholes who thought of themselves as gods.

“You do realize that nothing good comes out of talking to demons,” Sam finally said, feeling like he was walking through a minefield. He could feel Dean shift slightly beside him, and he didn’t need to glance over to know that Dean’s probably making a face, one that said ‘shut the fuck up, Sammy, before you say something you’ll regret’ but Sam couldn’t, not now, when he got both of the witches’ attentions, when he could feel the gun strapped to Dean’s boot, hidden under the hard fabric of his jeans. “Maybe you didn’t think anything of it at the time, but you definitely sold something alright.”

Melanie barked out a laugh. “Sold what? Our souls?”

“Didn’t you?” Sam pressed, feeling Dean shift yet again.

Keith glanced over to Melanie before looking back at Sam. “What? Do you believe that souls are real or something?”

“I don’t think they’re real. I know they are,” Sam said without hesitation. “And if a demon came to you to make a deal, I know you sold your soul to it. Whatever the demon told you, it’s bad news. You might be able to use a little magic now, but you’re going to Hell when all this is over.”

The next minute seemed to be in slow motion for Sam. Dean had gotten to his gun just as Keith’s eyes widened and drew up his own gun, but despite being a witch and an alpha to boot, Dean had decades of hunting experience under his belt and he was quicker to the draw. He aimed the gun at Keith’s head and pulled the trigger.

“Now, Sam!”

Sam could feel his ears ringing against the deafening roar of the gun going off. Even still, he found himself launching forward, toppling a bewildered and furious Melanie to the floor. 

“Move!”

Sam ducked down out of the way and Dean pulled the trigger again. The bullet, this time, whizzed through the air just above Sam and hit Melanie center point in her forehead. She had a funny surprised look on her face. Didn’t even fucking see it coming ‘til it was too late.

In the end, Sam and Dean cleaned up the mess they left in the house and wiped away any traces they had ever been there. They met up with Garth one final time before heading off to give him a couple hugs and apologies for doubting him. He shrugged it off and said, “It’s cool, guys. I understand. There wasn't really any evidence and a couple times, I even started to doubt myself. Anyways, thanks for the help, and tell Bobby I said thanks as well.”

“Will do, Garth,” Dean said. He turned to look at Sam once Garth headed for his car and drove off. He looked a little tired, but that was understandable because Sam was also pretty tired. “What do you say we hit a diner real quick and then find a motel to lay low for a couple days?” 

Sam smiled as they got into the car. “Sounds good, man.”

“Cool. I saw a place that was advertising the best dessert on this side of the state that I think we could try.”


End file.
